


Magic Honey Dust

by starryclimes (veritasapientia)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fishnets, Light Bondage, M/M, Magic, ballrooms, fairy dust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 02:45:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4547172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritasapientia/pseuds/starryclimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England has fun. Throw in a ballroom, fishnets, fairy dust, mirrors, and a bound America. PWP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic Honey Dust

 

            England ignored the muffled yells from the struggling tied-up man on the floor. He had perfected this spell for months, slaving away over the perfect conjuring spell that would bring objects over long distance, something that couldn’t be used often for it would drain his magic store for a year. This spell would bring the _right_ person this time around, and would automatically dress that person in his or her own idea of hot lingerie.

 

            Well, he was the perverted ambassador after all. Who knew that America’s idea of hot lingerie was the sexy pink number on page 38 of the newest Victoria’s Secret catalogue? Well, now England did. His long planned and studied magic had come into fruition. Who knew that there was an intricate Latin phrase for the right type of binding? Long weeks of research, and some practice on his brothers (Scotland was ready to try to revolt again after the final bondage spell had been perfected), and he had figured out how to conjure the spider silk bonds that would be as hard to break as steel or Kevlar.

 

            No, America had not seen it coming. He found himself though suddenly in England’s basement, dressing in skimpy magenta lace thong panties, and hot pink fishnets that met in the center with cut out hearts. The lace teddy spilt about his strong shoulder muscles like a puddle of a broken highlighter, and the expression on his face was priceless.

 

            Priceless.

 

            England smirked. His wizard’s robe draped about him like an undergraduate who thought it would be funny to graduate with lack of appropriate dress. The kind who wasn’t dressed at all underneath his or her robe, that is. The spider silk sash was yellow, and wrapped around America’s lips, like a bandit in one of his Westerns. The superpower’s eyes grew wide at the sight of England, and his first protestations were muffled really well. England was pleased. “Now, now, America.” England had smile fiercely, “This is will be over soon.”

 

            America wasn’t a fool. He knew exactly what was about to happen, and unfortunately, due to the lack of appropriate covering, his body showed its delight in the idea. England chuckled at that, ignoring the glare America’s vivid blue eyes were giving him.

 

            A word sounding much like Bastard was being yelled at him. “My dear boy, you are going to pass out from lack of air, perhaps I should take you somewhere less dank. Maybe the ballroom?” England thought pondering for a moment. There were a lot of mirrors in there. The room was rarely used anymore, even though his house had hosted many a ball over the centuries. What a waste! He thought, surely he should give that grand room a freshening. Like a christening really, England stood there eying America with a sharp thoughtful eye.

 

            If America’s eyes had gone wide before, now they had bulged in worry. Another thing of America’s bulged, and England took time to admire America’s body’s excitement. America rolled over to his stomach, his bound hands, and feet sticking up in the air as if begging to be released. “Nonsense,” England said sweetly. “We shall have a grand time.”

 

            The next part was a blur to America, the air suddenly around him mimicked the same horrible vortex feeling that happened while he and Matt had been walking through the wilds of Banff National Park. His stomach had dropped, fire tore at his flesh, and his clothes had vanished was the beginning of it. Then came the sudden appearance of England, and from his fish-like flopping realized that he was dressed in that sexy pink ensemble he had admired, at the nearby mall to his house, largely displayed on the poster of his favorite lingerie store.

 

            The horny gleam in England’s eye had make him concentrate on not puking his guts out from the magic, or whatever strange thing England had done to him, but he was irate. If England wanted him to come and play, why not just call him on the cellphone like a normal lover, and request a booty call? It was simple. Seven hours was really not that long to wait. Or, well, with a flight from Calgary to Toronto to Iceland to London it would be maybe a bit longer than seven hours, but that was no excuse for magically kidnapping your boyfriend, dressing him in lingerie, and bondage tying him!

 

            When the room and air stopped spinning, he was once again face up and staring at some strange looking satyrs chasing naked nymphs on a ceiling. Oh, this place. As a boy, he had snickered at the pictures and had chastised England for his worldly and European ways.

 

“Ah memories.” England had shown up, and for some reason the floor was suddenly gleaming and the chandeliers were glistening, all the dust had disappeared. “I do remember a little boy telling me about how I was doomed to hell if I did not purge my life from such unholy pictures.” England leaned down to kiss America’s forehead.

 

            “Wherever did that sweet boy go? Why now is he an ignorant, loudmouthed, bully? Hmm…”  
  


            America wiggled in frustration. No, came muffled through the sash. He was concentrating on breathing through his nose.

 

            But England continued on, “Why is he now a handsome, tightly muscled, sexy man that I want to fuck his brains out?” Here he leaned closer tracing the teddy’s satin ribbons draped across that lickable six pack and picking them up to drag slowly up and down America’s sternum. He let them just touch the skin, making America shiver. Then he moved them higher, across the lace triangles to the peaked nipples that begged for attention. “Because, you know, lad, I am going to fuck your brains out. Shag you until you can’t stand.”

 

            America’s legs had started to tremble and his eyes close and flutter. “How unholy, America, how utterly and perfectly decadent you are.” The satin laces now were making lazy circles about America’s areolas, and teasing the peaks. England said wickedly. “You wait here, love. I’m going to get ready.”

 

            “Huhmph!” America begged through the gag, his body rolling to the side, and the floor squeaking with his skin catching against its newly waxed polished surface.

 

            He saw England leaving through the large ornate door, and he peered at himself reflected in the mirrors of the walls. The door shut with a loud bang, and America just stared at the yellow ties binding him, his freshly de-haired legs, lotioned and sensitive against the X’s and hearts of the fishnets. They showed off his gorgeous legs that his lover told him they reminded him of the gams of the pin-ups girls of the forties. Hot pink garters connected with the lacy belt around his six-pack and toned abs. He could snap the binds, really, but these were really lovely, tight as steel but flexible. “Mmm,” he moaned rested his head into the floor, so polished his expression of pent up lust was visible in his face, his glasses clicking against the oak boards and his Nantucket quivering with excitement.

 

            Soft vibrations came through the wood, and then America heard projected about him softly the first syncopated beats of Ravel. It was Bolero starting oh-so-slow.

 

            “Now, my darling. I think we can continue.” England had changed into a tiny black silk apron, a bowtie, and wrist cuffs. Rather ridiculous, America had first thought, but then he wanted that apron to slip to the side so that he could see what it hid. England’s perfect ass though, was reflected in those large mirrors on the walls. Side glancing at the reflection, America admired England ass as England leaned down to slide his fingers down America’s neck.

 

            A wake of heat passed on his neck as England did so, and America noticed the wooden jar slightly out of reach. Its lid glimmered and shimmered with something golden. Soft kisses were followed by little bites and then soothing deeper kisses. America closed his eyes as England kissed down the path his fingers had taken, taking his time, feeling America’s quickened pulse as he did. The music muted beginning had become a slow pulse, gaining an instruments hear and there, rising, gathering, and continued on in the same infuriating rhythm. The music and the heavier breathing of the two were the only sounds whispering through the vast well-lit room.

 

            Something smelt sweet, like licorice, and lemon drops, and Alfred couldn’t kiss back, and it was driving him mad, trying to rub his body against England in any way he could. As if he knew he was infuriating America, England kept on in his lazy way, his finger, touching and leaving those sweets trails of heat. America’s garters were unfastened and kisses were pressed to his hip bones, and the lovely muscles that rested above them. America bucked because England mouth was so close, so close to where he would love to have it, and then with a frustrated moan, lay back and let England continue.

 

            After a thorough worship of America’s body and England finally finished kissing behind America’s knees he came up to see to his satisfaction that the boy’s eyes were glazed over in lust, the blue deepening into the color of twilight. Then he pulled the jar closer to his captive. His heart quickened with the new turn this was going to take. America just looked at him, dick erect and heavy laying back on his stomach, his face flushing down into his chest, and England knew if he pulled off that gag America’s lips would be swollen with red.

 

            Grabbing the ties of the teddy, England yanked out the bow, and took his fingers shimmering with powder and placed it on America’s nipples. America bucked again, and England first pinched and squeezed them with his fingers, then taking them one at a time into his mouth, and sucking. America’s muffled yells were so pleasing. There was a question in America’s eyes by the time England came up from his wet interests, red now from the ministrations. So he decided to be kind, and explain why and what he was doing to America.

 

            The jar held golden dust that had sweet smell of honey. Wherever the sparkling dust poured out as a glistening powder, it shimmering and slipped against the skin like water, and left aching sensitivity. So that when the area it had been place on was touched it created an unbearable pleasure. England knew this, but America had never experienced it before. “This was a gift from the great Queen Titania, and is extremely rare and valuable, so we must take as much from this as we can.”

 

            America snorted at the fairy queen’s name, but nodded in assent to England.

 

            “It’s incredibly sweet, my boy,” England whispered into America’s ear, blowing softly across the top of the red tip. “You might fancy it too much.”

 

            The superpower was on his knees, hands behind his back, his eyes questioning England, as the former Empire dipped his fingers into the intricately carved wooden jar, the cork set aside, the bottom flickering with dust in the light from the large ceiling level windows.

 

            Ah, this was going to be fun. England’s cock thought this too, and strained from the anticipation of things to come. His two fingers dripped with the golden dust, and sliding them carefully under America’s gag, rubbed America’s lips and felt the soft entrance of his mouth. America’s tongue came to meet the fingers tentatively wondering at the warm and tingling sensation his lips had. What he found was sweet, like the pixie sticks of the sixties with real sugar, but even better. Maple candies poured into the snow? Fresh caramel? He found himself sucking on England’s fingers with all his might. He licked them clean, feeling the heat building in his mouth.

 

            “Like that, poppet?” said England quietly, smoothly. His voice had grown rough from the touch of America’s greedy tongue.

 

            America felt the gag slipping off, but hadn’t felt England untying the binding. Freedom! “YOU OLD PERVER-“ The gag quickly tied off tight again. America breathed through his nose hard, annoyed.

 

            “Now, now,” England tutted, “You have to be a good boy. Or no more pixie dust.”

 

            America glared and then felt the gag release again. Again England let his fingers be licked off again. Then he smeared his own mouth with the dust and let America snog him senseless. America hadn’t noticed England fisting himself, and suddenly was presented with England’s cock, dripping and glistening with the sweet honey dust. America didn’t hesitate. As America licked England’s cock’s head and shaft, he moaned with the sensation and enjoyment of the sweetness. It was like the best milk shake in the world.

 

            England eyes rolled back at the double sensation of the pleasant burn of the dust and America’s very wet, very greedy mouth. Taking the whole cock into his mouth, America sucked eagerly, madly trying to please England and trying to lick that sweetness that was so addicting.

 

            A cruel and wonderful idea came to England, and doing the opposite of what his body wanted he stepped back by a couple inches, making his erection pull from America’s lips. To his great delight, his loss of pleasure from being sucked on by that warm cavern was made up for the sight of America’s attempts at jumping slightly forward after his treat. Knees scraped against the floor, and America not being able to hold England still tried to take him all in deep, but with England’s thrusting and moving, could not give the perfect blowjob he was attempting to give.

 

            Growling deep in his throat, and then lunging at England, America heard over the roar of blood in his ears, the music gaining tempo and volume. He also felt the sensation of something slipping on his tailbone that dripped slowly down into his butt crack.

 

            America’s gag was back as he moaned, and torn between wanting to finish his previous deviancy to now the heat building up in his behind, he didn’t know what was going on. England grabbed his lace panties and tore them off, the two parts now fell flapping down like flamingo feathers as America’s erection bobbed free.

 

            America was bent over on what would be hands and knees, but from his bound hands behind his back and his feet tied at the ankle it was more his shoulder, chin and knees. England was now licking down his back, following the heated trail of fairy dust, down down until he reached America’s hole, and he started to suck with vigor. America moaned and bucked back into the ministration, his dick dripping with precum, as England’s licked and tongued him over and over.

 

            Then rubbing at the wet muscle, England brought out lube, or something like lube. Panting into the wood floor, America looked at the container England held out in front of his face. Like a Virgin was printed on the container. “Do you remember this, love? Remember giving me this?” America’s eyes widened, _Damn, it had been a joke_. But no, England took a good portion of the goop and fingered it into America’s ass.

 

            The concoction made him tight, and he moaned from the even greater pleasure from the dust that had become liquid-like. Two fingers replaced the one and America thrust himself backwards not caring how it looked, rocking himself back and forth, while England’s fingers hit his sweet spot.

 

            Soon the two fingers were replaced by England’s dick, and America shuddered as he was opened, entered, and being thrust into. Wantonly, he ground himself backwards, his shoulders squeaking over and over on the floor, his knees shaking as he tried to pry his legs open wider and wider. Legs trembling with the attempt, his bound ankles gave no relief, and England only quickened the pace, gripping America’s naked hips to hold him up as the sweat was making them both slip on the waxed floor.

 

            Screaming into his gag as England finally finally touched his cock, hands warm with honey dust, America came, and came. England came inside him, and the two of them slumped down, breathing heavily.

 

            Pulling out and gently wiping the boy with the scrap of silk England had been wearing earlier, he then slowly set America down on a clean portion of his floor, and slowly massaged the boy’s lovely muscles. After releasing America’s gag, America had just tried to lick England clean of the sweet honey dust, and intermittently kissed England.

 

            America looked utterly divine, his fishnets straggling down his wet thighs, his glasses off, lost in the chaos, blue eyes unfocused slightly, cherry red lips licked by a sly tongue, and the sweat gleaming off those beautiful muscles.

 

            _Well done, old boy_ , England congratulated himself. Then, still in post-orgasmic haze, realized he better send the America off again before America started a fight. America just stared at England dazed, “Hey England,” his voice croaked, “Where the hell are my clothes? There’s no way I’m going back to camping with Mattie in these. That would be one long walk of shame.” He grinned as he touched his lover’s face.

 

            England just raised his brows.

           

\-------------------------------------

 

            Canada was sitting at the campsite looking glum when his errant brother came limping back through the brush into the little area set aside for the fire pit and picnic table. “America!” Canada sprang up, “Where did you go?! I looked everywhere for you.”

 

            Noting his brother’s glasses were slightly set askew on the bridge of his nose, and that America’s hair was sticking about like he had put his finger in an outlet, Canada wondered if he had an encounter with a bear. Now that he really was looking, America’s neck was thick with hickeys, and as America was rubbing his wrists over and over, he saw the rope burns on America’s hands.

 

            And where those rug burns on his collarbones? His shirt didn’t hide them completely. Shy Canada was simply aghast, “Were you kidnapped America? And…um…raped?”

 

            America just stared at him with a glassy look. “Yes. No. Damned perverted old man.” He growled, his throat raw.

 

            “A perverted old man?” Canada clutched at Kuma—whats-his-name.

 

            “Yeah,” America limped slowly towards the tents, “British. Yea tall,” here he set his red fingers a couple inches below the top of his head, “and horribly horny.”

 

            Canada was just reeling, “You met England in the woods,” he breathed quietly.

 

            “You don’t want to know.”

 

            “You’re right, I don’t.”

 

            Canada suddenly sniffed the air, “Do you smell that?”

 

            “What?” America was suddenly wary.

 

            “It smells sweet.” Canada sniffed America, “Hey, it’s you!”  
  


            “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

 

            “You smell like fruit loops, or those mallows we made last night.”

 

            America grinned malevolently. “Really? Cuz I don’t know what that would be from.”  
  


            Canada eyes widened, but he didn’t ask any questions.

 

            “I’m going to lay down.”  
  


            “O-o-ok.” Canada just looked at him dazed.

 

            America was scowling as he made his way to the tent slowly. He couldn’t remember when he had such an erotic good time. Damn the old codger, he was going to get even. Maybe he didn’t have magic fairy dust. Fairies, he snorted in disbelief. Maybe he didn’t have magic. His stomach roiled at the thought of his trips there and back.

 

He did however have a marvelous idea to drive his former caretaker crazy. Apparently, England didn’t remember that America had leather belts, and his old World War II uniform. _Oh no_ , America thought, wincing as he sat down into his sleeping bag, _just you wait, you geezer_. Lying down gingerly, he smiled as fell asleep to dream of England, honey sweet smoothies, and waltzes in a mirrored ballroom.


End file.
